


Under The Same Stars

by Shinrin-yoku (Ganesha33)



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Humor, Introspection, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Male Bonding, Male Friendship, POV Alternating, Pop Culture, Pop Culture Film References, Pre-Relationship, Songfic, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganesha33/pseuds/Shinrin-yoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having always had a fascination for the dynamics between extraordinary characters, this Superman/Batman songfic was inspired by UK musician Fink's song 'Under The Same Stars' (from his third studio album Distance and Time).   It isn't essential to hear it before reading this, however I highly recommend listening to it, it's beautiful in its simplicity :)  There are sections of the song at the end of each chapter.  </p><p>The relationship/interactions in this can be interpreted anyway you'd like - friendship, pre-slash - whatever takes your fancy!!   It's not set in any particular 'verse (though Christian Bale and Henry Cavill came to mind when picturing the physicality because who wouldn't?!).</p><p>It's just two men discovering they may have more in common than they thought...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patience Is A Superman Virtue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Buns](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Buns), [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts).



> This is the first fanfic I have ever written though it was incomplete until now, so it's the second I've posted on AO3. First 2 chapters beta'ed by my soul sister Buns, thanks for your support gorgeous! 
> 
> I'm also dedicating this to mithen for the wonderful Superman/Batman epic 'Music of the Spheres', which was one of my main inspirations to start writing fanfic. Thank you!!!!!! 
> 
> If it feels like the alternating POV's aren't clearly defined/linked to a character please let me know, I'm a bit abstract at the best of times! The same applies to tagging. Any errors are mine alone. 
> 
> Feedback - positive and/or gentle yet firm ;) - is always absorbed and appreciated :)

A sprawling Gotham lies before him, below him, around him, a dark ever-present hum.  It both fascinates and repels his otherworldly senses, as much apart from the world as it is a part of it.  He sighs, thinking it’s not unlike its reticent, deadly protector.

“Who knew the Overman is prone to melancholia?”, emanates from the shadows behind him.

He grimaces, just for a moment, relieved he’s facing away from that gravelly voice.  “Who knew things that go bump in the night have such a unique and irrepressible sense of humour?”.

There’s an almost imperceptible sound of surprise in response.  He turns with a slightly bemused smile, finding himself hovering a half-metre off the rooftop floor.  He waits.

The silence stretches, strangely companionable.  “Nietzsche? Not what one would expect from the world’s golden boy, the champion of mankind”.

There’s some _thing_ genuine buried in those biting words.  He smiles widely, oddly comforted by the sarcasm.  It was not something he experienced often, if at all, in his public role.  It brought normalcy, however brief, to an abnormal…no, an **alien** existence.  “Perhaps…” he says thoughtfully, “or perhaps one should not have such expectations of a being defined solely by those who don’t truly know or understand it… _him_ …”. 

His laser-bright smile dims slightly as he glides back to the precipice, gazing unseeingly into the murky night sky.  He **senses** movement, Gotham’s knight now beside him.  He always feels his presence when he’s near, it’s disconcerting yet impossibly familiar somehow.  It grounds him like nothing has before.  He doesn’t fear the thought as he believes he should.  He waits.

“Perhaps”, the sentinel concedes huskily.  A fleeting moment of connection and he’s alone once more.

He waits.

 

_And we're under the same stars_  
 _And that's as close as we get tonight_  
 _It only took the once to know how special we could be_  
 _if we were left alone_


	2. Resistance Is A Batman Idiosyncrasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resistance Is A Batman Idiosyncrasy...

He perches ominously on the ledge, surveying the shining city of Metropolis, a stark contrast to his home, his Dark Lady.  He wonders what drew him here, uncomfortable with the uncertainty.  It’s a state of mind as foreign to him as this city’s guardian is proving to be.  He hadn’t expected him to be so… **real** , yet equally, so enigmatic.  He huffs a short wry laugh, mysteries were his forte, his obsession, he could be nowhere else.

“Care to let me in on the joke?”.  A light breeze sends ripples through his inky cloak as the object of his musings descends to the ledge.

“No joke”, he murmurs, suspecting that _if_ there is, it’s on him.

“If you say so”, Superman says warily.  “Well, this is…unexpected, what brings you to my tiny corner of the world?”.

He opts for his default response, a glib deflection, rather than the truth (which even he can’t yet discern).  “I didn't expect this kind of Spanish Inquisition", he deadpans, his eyes averted.

There’s a split second of utter stillness before his ally _(is that what he is?)_ retorts, “NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!”, bursting into soul-deep crystalline laughter - a sound so organic, so cleansing, his lips twitch in response - an almost smile.  Almost.  He resists.

Superman’s watching him curiously now, clarion eyes still lit with amusement.  Of the two of them, he alone has the benefit of an amped-up protective cowl, why was it so difficult to meet that unwavering topaz gaze?

At first, he'd been certain it was the openness, far too much openness from one person, yet there was complexity underneath - purity with unseen shadows.  An intriguing dual persona juxtaposed with his own public images of implacable avenger and elusive playboy, true openness pushed deep down an abyss ever since that fateful night in an alley.

"Batman?", he says gently, breaking him from his thoughts, "why are you here?".

**_Those eyes_** are still regarding him steadily and he wills himself to hold the contact, no closer to a comfortable answer.  He feels instinctually a reciprocal overture of some _thing_ is crucial to this…connection _(is that what this is??)_.  He resists.

"Batman?”.

"It's Bruce", he says on a low growl.  There's a flash of emotion in those brilliant eyes - surprise perhaps? ( _best not to analyse it)_.  It’s inexplicably gratifying nonetheless.

"Clark", he says solemnly, holding out a hand as if they had just met.  For a brief moment in time, unblemished steel grasps armoured gauntlet.

Another light breeze and he's back with his unsettling thoughts. 

He resists.

 

  _And we're under the same stars_  
_And that's the same ones we were_  
_Under last night, when they were smiling on us and_  
_We could be_  
_Left alone_  
**  
**


	3. Uncertainty Is A Clark Kent Quirk & A Bruce Wayne Impossibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncertainty Is A Clark Kent Quirk & A Bruce Wayne Impossibility...

A cacophony of voices assaults his heightened senses, an unbearable buzzing in his mind.  He's never been comfortable in close quarters with people en mass, filtering out the non-essential chatter is always a challenge.  Unfortunately, his role as a journalist meant attending certain society events was unavoidable.  The motive behind his invitation to this particular gala benefit in an English country manor was unclear, an olive branch or mere curiosity from Bruce Wayne? 

Clark settles himself at the bar with a dessert, observing the dilettante at work, schmoozing the room with ease.  Bruce Wayne, the playboy tycoon, was a disconcerting sight. Polished, felicitous, exuding equal parts charm and arrogance from every fibre of his being.    

Clark huffs in wry acknowledgment.  Bruce’s chimeric abilities far outweighed his own facades.  It was impressive and saddening at the same time.  How difficult must life be, for one _extra_ ordinary human to maintain a masquerade for the sake of others, and likely, for their own sake as well.  He didn’t delude himself into believing they were exactly the same, he and Bruce.  Clark was **_other_** , no matter how much he wished he wasn’t.      

A smooth voice jolts him from his thoughts.  “Mr Kent, enjoying your time amongst high society?”

Clark steadies himself mentally, outwardly calm.  “You should try the pecan pie, it’s delicious.”

Bruce smirks, “I’ll have what he’s having,” he says to the waitress, who shoots him a conspiratorial wink.

“Did I miss something?” Clark asks in confusion.

Bruce shakes his head in amazement.  “Nietzsche and Monty Python, only to be defeated by pecan pie! For shame, Mr Kent, for shame.”  His smile reaches his eyes, no trace of the impassive Dark Knight in sight.

Clark tilts his head slightly, smiling faintly in return, thoughtful - it was dazzling, that smile, yet there were minute cracks - if you knew what to look for.

Bruce’s demeanour doesn’t patently change under his obvious scrutiny, though there’s an extremely subtle shift at the corner of his eyes, discomfort there but hidden well.

Clark breaks the moment with a widening grin.  “To your earlier query.  In all honesty, high society can be overwhelming for a pleb like me.  I think some fresh country air is called for.  When in Dulwich…”

He acknowledges his departure with a nod to Bruce, who, for once, seems lost for the right words, or any words at all.

Clark releases a deep breath as he walks up the hill.  He’d come to a sudden realisation while leaving the manor.  The multitude of voices, the extraneous noise, had ceased the moment Bruce had spoken to him.  His mother - his earth mother - had taught him how to filter out the world, had always been his anchor, keeping him from drowning in his expanded senses.  When did Batman, no, Bruce Wayne, become an anchor… _**his**_ anchor?!  

 

_And we're under the same stars_  
_And that's as close as we get for now and_  
_I walk up Apple Hill and wonder where you're sleeping_  
_Please..._  
_Left Alone_  
  
_And we're under the same stars...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose Dulwich in the UK for the event location as there's an Apple Hill in that area, which is mentioned in the Fink song 'Under the Same Stars'.


	4. Home Truths Are A Clark Kent Singularity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home Truths Are A Clark Kent Singularity...

Clark is sitting in the top window of the Kent family barn, legs dangling over the edge, gazing out at the translucent night sky.  There’s something untouchable about his expression and Bruce slows as he approaches, hesitant to disturb the other man’s pensive mood.  He’s long since given up on his customary stealth, there was no sneaking up on someone like Clark.  

“Pondering the secrets of the universe?” Bruce asks lightheartedly.

Clark doesn’t turn from his contemplation but there’s a slight loosening of his shoulders, which Bruce doesn’t attempt _(want)_ to decipher.  “Not exactly, just pondering the only universally acceptable answer to the ultimate question,” Clark replies, his demeanour unchanged.

Bruce sits next to Clark, at what he calculates to be a respectable distance.  “Ah…42? That old chestnut…”

“Easy to track down, was I?” Clark says wryly, a query more rhetorical than questioning.  Aside from a pitying look from Bruce, they both know it doesn’t require an answer.    

They stay that way, side by side, in companionable silence.  It’s a world away from their first taciturn interactions.

Bruce is astounded -this _stillness_ centres him on a much deeper level than his formidable physical and mental training has ever managed to achieve.  There is a degree of mutual trust, which shouldn’t, by rights, exist.  He’s tempted to leave - he is most certainly **not** panicking…    

Clark glances at him, perhaps sensing his sudden unease.

Bruce considers leaving, yet remains, staring resolutely into the night. 

“What do you see when you look at the stars from an Earth vantage point, as opposed to being amongst them?” he asks Clark.  It’s the one question he’s wanted to ask since learning of Superman… _Clark’s_ …existence.

He hears the pleased bemusement in Clark’s voice.  “You’re not asking the question correctly Bruce.  There is no ‘opposition’ between vantage points, I _always_ see the same thing whether looking up at the stars _or_ down at Earth."

Bruce waits.

Clark’s tone turns wistful.  “Home.”

 

_And we're under the same stars_  
_And that's as close as we get tonight_  
_It only took the once to know how special we could be._


	5. Capitulation Is A Bruce Wayne Rarity & Patience is STILL a Superman Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capitulation Is A Bruce Wayne Rarity & Patience is STILL a Superman Virtue...

This is not what Bruce was expecting when he opens his front door.

“Clark…why are you here?”

Bruce remembers those exact words directed at him on a rooftop not so long ago, and inwardly winces.  He tries again.  “This isn’t a good idea.”

Unfazed by Bruce’s wariness, Clark’s lips lift at the corners.  “Why, does your dog bite?”

Bruce rolls his eyes.  This man was a force of nature in more ways than he could have ever anticipated.  “At times like this, I wish I was but a simple peasant,” he says resignedly, moving aside for Clark to enter.

Clark looks around with undisguised interest.  “Aren’t you going to give me the grand tour Bruce? I hear there are hidden depths to stately homes like Wayne Manor…”

Clark is the picture of innocence as he waits for a reply.

“Clark, I am **_not_** showing you the Batcave.”

Clark just shoots him a lopsided smirk, unperturbed.

Bruce sighs in defeat.  “Fine.  Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

It’s so much more than Clark could ever have imagined.  “I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore,” Clark whispers in wonder, overwhelmed by the remarkable dusky cavern.

A subtle clearing of a throat somewhere to his left shakes him out of his stupor.  There’s an impeccably dressed, perfectly postured gentleman politely waiting for his attention.

“Clark Kent, Alfred,” Bruce says curtly.

Alfred bow’s respectfully.  “Though you may call me Toto.  A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master Kent.”  Clark is fairly sure his mouth is hanging open, and Bruce is barely containing his second eye-roll of the day. 

Clark chuckles in appreciation and returns the greeting, bow and all.  “The pleasure is all mine.”

Alfred is eyeing them both with a very intimidating glint of intelligence, and a dash of something bordering on merriment.  Clark sees Bruce aiming a very pointed look in Alfred’s direction.  “That’ll be all Alfred, thank you,” Bruce says stiffly.

“Very good Master Bruce, if there is anything you or Master Kent require…” Alfred pauses politely.

“That won’t be necessary Alfred, Mr Kent won’t be staying long,” Bruce says, pointed glare now aimed at Clark, who is quite proud of himself for not flinching.

“Very good sir.  Master Kent…” Alfred executes another perfect bow and retreats.  Clark catches a glimmer of exasperated affection on Bruce’s face before his features return to unreadable.  Clark recognises that expression, it’s one reserved for those you love, be it family or friends.  He’s done his research, knows as much of Bruce’s history as is available, which he’s fairly confident only scratches the surface.  Alfred is a pleasant revelation.

Bruce is starting to look like he regrets granting Clark access to his inner sanctum.

Clark pretends not to notice.  “So, Bruce, about that tour?...”

Bruce noticeably relaxes while explaining his meticulous and advanced set-up, and Clark is beyond impressed by the other man's ingenuity.  Bruce is as animated and at ease as anyone’s ever likely to see him, and Clark is intrinsically aware that _this_ is the **real** Bruce – a man who feels so much, yet through sheer force of will, usually shows so little.

There are many things Clark would like to ask Bruce, about his past, his present, perhaps even his future, however now is not the time, not when Bruce is trusting him with his safe haven, a monumental step in itself.

He waits.

 

* * *

 

Bruce notes the stark admiration in Clark’s eyes and voice, and feels a sense of pride.  A rarity for Bruce, never proud, always single-minded in his mission, one solely of duty.

On an intellectual level, Bruce is horrifed he’s allowed Clark to glimpse his true self, his true home, it goes against every survival instinct he has.  On an intuitive level, well, it’s much simpler and more terrifying than Bruce cares to admit - it’s a natural progression.

The tour’s complete and Clark’s beaming at Bruce, gratitude and respect radiating at him, _around_ him, in full force.  Bruce isn’t built for this **_goodness_**.

“Thanks for the Show and Tell Bruce, I’ll see you around,” Clark says, eyes flashing with delight, “same Bat-time…same Bat-channel…”

Bruce blinks in disbelief.  Damn it, how can anyone look so utterly majestic and smug at the same time?!  A blinding grin _(it should be illegal!)_ , a blur, stunned solitude.

“For fuck’s sake…” Bruce mutters; then defies himself by laughing – deeply, richly, genuinely - like he hasn’t done for as long as he can remember.

He relents.

 

  _  
And we're under the same stars_

_And we're under the same stars_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit later than the end of 2015, however almost there :) Thanks for your infinite patience! I have taken a liberty with the origin of the cult 'same Bat-time same Bat-channel' phrase because Superman being it's creator just tickles my fic's fancy :) xh
> 
> Any queries about literary/film/tv references please let me know, I packed a few in this chapter, poor impulse control xh


End file.
